While most of my stories in flash fiction are, well, fiction, this one actually has some element of truth. It took forever to clean that up.

She never thought she would find a connection to her, but it was right there in her family tree. For this moment, she was where she belonged.

He had waited a long time for this. They had both needed rescue and now they had both found a home—in each other.

Everything just seems harder when we are grieving. It takes being surrounded by those who can tell us the truth even when we are hurting.

He had to hurry. It wouldn’t be long before the next one sounded its chimed warning through the great hall.

No more feeling intimidated by the things that held her back. She would step out into the world now doing things her way.

It should not have taken all the life she had left to make it back home, but it did. Now she knew she would never leave.

He worried so much about that little girl. How could he tell her that leaving was the best thing she could do?

The blank page taunted her amid one distraction after another. When was it okay to stop expecting perfection?

She privately mourned a love she could never admit she had. She would never again feel that freedom . . . or would she?

This was all she had left. She had to take the chance no matter what the result was. She didn’t want to be alone anymore.

How far would you go to discover who you are and where you belong. She was willing to take it to the cross.

There are days when it seems our impact is so insignificant. We can never forget the power the light has over the dark.

I closed my eyes. Just take a deep breath. Just do the next thing. One foot in front of the other.

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard!” my brother shouts back across the yard. “What are we, toddlers?” he growls.

It had taken a long time to unlock the secrets of her heart. Now he just prayed he knew the key to keeping her forever.

It was the only place she felt at rest. They didn’t understand why she insisted upon coming here, but she knew what she needed.

“You can’t put it there!” she shouted. I looked over at my frustrated friend as I dropped the heavy post driver from over my head.

Tears streamed down her face as moments of exhaustion melted away into memories she didn’t even remember she had.

“Just take another step,” she begged herself as she shielded her eyes from the sun, “don’t turn around.”

She stumbled through the door overloaded with books and papers after a long morning of researching to find something, anything, that would bring her answers.